Obi-Wan Kenobi

While a part of Obi-Wan appreciates there is no longer any war in which he's expected to fight, no expectation of being a general, no fighting against battle droids day in and day out while trying to wrangle both Anakin and Ahsoka, all while beating back Ventress, Maul, or whichever enemy had decided they wanted Obi-Wan's head on that particular day, he still isn't quite used to relaxation.

It feels indulgent. The Jedi have never exactly been known for their indulgence, which Obi-Wan knows Rael Averross would have said was one of their primary failures, and while he hadn't always agreed with Rael, he had respected the man. No matter where he finds himself, he doesn't imagine he'll ever turn into the Jedi Rael was during his days on Pijal -- using recreational drugs, going to bed with whoever was within a five foot radius -- but he thinks he can take at least some inspiration from him.

And that is why, this evening, Obi-Wan is sitting on his sofa, a steaming cup of tea waiting for him on the coffee table, a book of poetry in one hand, and Klaus's feet propped up in his lap. He has one hand curled over one foot, the pads of his fingers working onto the arch of Klaus's foot, massaging without really thinking about it. His focus is on the poetry instead, fascinated by the cadence of the words. So unlike poetry he had read on Coruscant, instead much wittier, much more real, and absolutely engrossing.

Music plays softly, something Klaus had picked, and Obi-Wan knows this is not the sort of night Rael would have considered at all entertaining, but he's quite content in this moment.